e, are you loco? What's ailin' you, anyhow?"

"Nothin'. Me and Gary just had it out. He's over there--in the brush."

"Gary!"

"Yes. I reckon I got him."

"Hell!" The ruddy color sank from Andy's face. He had supposed that
Gary and Cotton were by this time tracking the strayed horses toward
the T-Bar-T. "Where's Cotton?" he asked.

"I told him to fan it."

"But, Pete--!"

"I know. They's no use talkin', Andy. I come back to tell you--and to
git your rope. Mine's over by Gary."

"What you goin' to do, Pete?"

"Me? Why, I'm goin' to drift as soon as I can git a saddle on Blue.
Cotton he seen the shootin'--but that don't do me no good. He'll swear
that I pulled first. He'd say 'most anything--he was too scared to
know what come off. Gary's hand was on his gun when I let him have
it--twict."

Andy noticed then Pete's torn sleeve. "I reckon that's right. Look at
that!"

Pete turned his head and glanced at his sleeve. "Never knowed he
shot--it was all done so quick." He seemed to awaken suddenly to the
significance of his position. "I'll take your rope and go git Smoke.
Then I'm goin' to drift."

"But where?"

"You're my pardner, Andy, but I ain't sayin'. Then you won't have to
lie. You'll have to tell Jim--and tell him it was like I said--_if
Gary come at me, that would be different_. I'm leavin' it to you to
square me with Jim Bailey." Pete picked up the rope and started toward
the spring.

"I'm goin' with you," said White, "and ketch my hoss. I aim to see you
through with this."

In an hour they were back at the cabin with the horses. Andy White
glanced at his watch. "Cotton is afoot--for I seen his hoss over
there. But he can make it to the T-Bar-T in three hours. That'll give
us a start of two hours, anyhow. I don't know which way you aim to
ride, but--"

"I'm playin' this hand alone," stated Pete as he saddled Blue Smoke.
"No use your gittin' in bad."

White made no comment, but cinched up his pony. Pete stepped to him
and held out his hand. "So-long, Andy. You been a mighty square
pardner."

"Nothin' doin'!" exclaimed Andy. "I'm with you to the finish."

"Nope, Andy. If we was both to light out, you'd be in it as bad as me."

"Then what do you say if we both ride down to Concho and report to the
sheriff?"

"I tried that onct--when they killed Pop Annersley. I know how that
would work."

"But what you goin' to do?"

"I'm ridin'," and Pete swung to his